


Static

by Cerulean_Phoenix7



Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Coruscant, Drama, F/M, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-15
Updated: 2015-10-15
Packaged: 2018-04-26 11:11:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5002528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cerulean_Phoenix7/pseuds/Cerulean_Phoenix7
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A much needed conversation between two people that were reunited by coincidence and circumstance. An interlude between "Voyage of Temptation" and "Duchess of Mandalore."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Static

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Uroborus75 for the beta work.
> 
> Originally published on Fanfiction.Net on April 20, 2015.

_Static: pertaining to or characterized by a fixed or stationary condition_

* * *

 

There were very few things that made Duchess Satine Kryze nostalgic.

Beyond the crystalline windows of her quarters, speeders and transports whisked through the uppermost levels of the city. Rivers of traffic merged and then parted once more before her eyes in an effortless fashion. Though it had been many years since Satine had been on Coruscant, the planet still held traces of familiarity. Something about the structures and the myriad lights unearthed memories of her past residency. Back then, as a young girl, Satine had been inundated with instruction on political science and diplomacy. Her father had taken the necessary steps to nurture her for leadership and rule, but her absence from Mandalore had inadvertently saved her own life at the cost of many others. Her father's among them.

Pacifism had seemed like the natural solution to Satine when she'd inherited the title of Duchess. Though Mandalore's violent history was ingrained deeply by tradition, she had felt that change was necessary in order to stop further bloodshed.

And now the Galactic Senate was accusing her of creating an army for the _Separatists_! Satine shook her head. Where Coruscant was delivering in nostalgia, it severely lacked in reception. Mandalore was head of the Council of Neutral Systems and a decisively pacifist world. What line of reasoning would lead to such spurious accusations?

Satine sighed. It wouldn't matter, come morning. The Senate was gathering and she would have to defend her planet's neutrality in the costly war that continued to rage in the galaxy.

_Will this war ever come to an end?_

In the distance, Coruscant's sky was stained in the deep amber of the setting sun. As the sun's rays receded from the city limits, other lights beamed to life, everything from sprawling neon signs to standard skylights. The world outside her window glowed in a sea of colour, mixing the last remnants of sunlight with the beginnings of Coruscant's night life. Below her, millions of people milled about on their business.

_How many of them have fought—and lost—in this war?_

A chime drew her from the window, a single flashing icon on her desk panel signalling a message from her personal guard. She pressed the icon with two fingers.

"Yes, what is it?"

"General Kenobi is here and requesting to speak with you, Duchess. He says it's about the Senate."

She indulged a brief smile, but a coil of dread also snaked into her stomach at the thought of what news Obi-Wan could have regarding the Senate. They hadn't spoken much since she disembarked from the Coronet, and even less so about the events surrounding her attempted capture by Tal Merrik.

"Send him in," she replied swiftly.

The doors fell back, yielding Obi-Wan Kenobi. His expression was placid, though she had learned that to be common with him. Anxiousness did not become him, nor did desperation. If something was troubling him, she wouldn't know until he spoke of it.

"Good evening, Duchess," he said with a nod.

"That remains to be seen," she said, morose, moving to a seat and motioning for Obi-Wan to do likewise. "What news do you bring about the Senate?"

Obi-Wan folded his hands, elbows resting on his knees. "I just spoke with Senator Amidala. She tells me that the concern over Death Watch is much greater than we originally thought. The Senate doesn't like the idea of a rogue group with clearly hostile intentions operating while we still have the Separatists opposing us."

"The Senate doesn't seem to like a lot of ideas," she retorted, fingers curling over her knees. "Why are they now deciding to focus so intently on Mandalore?"

"I believe the concern stems from a possible alliance between the Death Watch and the Separatists. If Count Dooku were to align himself with Pre Vizsla, it would put Mandalore in great danger, and the Neutral Systems along with it."

Satine drew her hands back to her lap, glancing away from Obi-Wan for a moment. She had only known Death Watch to be an independent rebel group within the Mandalorian system, possessing no known affiliates. Were they so desperate as to turn to the Separatists? It was either a sign of weakness or of desperation.

"If Death Watch sought help from the Separatists," she began, "then they would have to be incredibly desperate. To my knowledge, they are not one for short-term alliances, and I fail to see any benefit for Death Watch beyond their attempts to overthrow my rule."

Obi-Wan's brow wrinkled slightly, the corner of his mouth subtly tilting down. "Do not underestimate them, Satine. From what I saw, the Death Watch has every intent of overthrowing your government by any means necessary."

"Of that I have no doubt, Obi-Wan, but Mandalore is seeking the leaders of Death Watch with great interest. Republic interference will only serve to fuel further fear and distrust in my people."

Obi-Wan stroked his beard, his fingers coming to rest near his chin. "You think your people may rally to Death Watch?"

"If Mandalore is under Republic occupation, yes," she snapped. She inhaled a breath in an attempt to relax the tension in her body. "You must know by now how opposed I am to the ideals those terrorists hold, but you must also realize how opposed I am to a Republic occupation. Mandalore can and will prevail in this matter."

Obi-Wan let out sigh as his hand dropped from his chin. "Belief in an ideal does not mean that it will come to pass, Satine. You think that Death Watch can be reasoned with when everything I have seen proves otherwise."

Satine's brow furrowed, jaw clenching behind her pursed lips. Obi-Wan and his infamous pessimism had returned once again. "I suppose it's a good thing that the decision is in the hands of the Senate, then," she said. "Perhaps they will be more understanding of my position."

"We shall see," he replied. "If you'll pardon me, Duchess, I must return to the Jedi Temple." He stood from the couch and made his way to the door.

She stood from her seat. "Obi-Wan, a moment?"

There had been no time since the ship, when Merrik had had his hands around her neck and a blaster to her throat. No time since her admission that she now questioned. Though more serious matters lay ahead of her, she wanted to take a moment to address something that only concerned the two of them.

Obi-Wan paused, and turned away from the door, returning to her. When he stood in front of her, she spoke softly.

"I realize that my earlier admission on the Coronet may have seemed somewhat… abrupt, but I hope that it does not tarnish our friendship."

Obi-Wan's brow creased with a slight frown. "It never will, Satine. And even if it was abrupt, Merrik was holding a blaster to your head. You needn't worry about what you said on the ship in a moment of crisis. I think anyone else in your position would have done the same thing."

She let herself smile, a gentle wave of relief washing over her. "I appreciate that, given the strain of the situation I assumed it would be my only chance to say some parting words."

"I know," he replied, placing a hand on her shoulder. "But… you do realize that I cannot leave the Order. There was once a time where I would have left the Jedi if you had asked me to, but… that time has passed. I'm sorry."

She felt her shoulders deflate, as if someone had let the air out of her lungs. Emptiness settled in her abdomen, riddling her with guilt over her admission. It seemed to her that the sentiments between them were like twin statues reaching out, unable to move—for being of stone, they could not move any further forward, nor settle back to the way they originally were.

"I know," she finally replied. "It was a long time ago, though I had wanted to tell you since your first mission to Mandalore. I was…relieved, to say the least, to know that you cared so deeply, but I understand your position. Your code prevents you from entering relationships. And my responsibilities are not particularly accommodating to my own personal life. It is a cost that duty demands of us, I suppose."

Obi-Wan nodded, dropping his hand from her shoulder. His mouth was downturned at the corners and his eyes flickered with something that resembled remorse. Perhaps their feelings were closer in their mutual reach than she'd originally thought.

"I must go," Obi-Wan insisted. "But know that your words will be safe, and that I shall always be your friend."

She reached her hand up to stroke his beard, though he didn't seem quite as startled that time. "And I yours." She paused and raised a brow. "Though I'm still unsure about the beard."

Obi-Wan chuckled, quickly stroking his bead. "Well, I'm sure you'll have plenty of time to decide."

Obi-Wan turned away and walked toward the door. Just before he reached the threshold, he turned back to her. "Goodnight, Satine."

"Goodnight, Obi-Wan," she replied.

A moment later the doors opened and he walked out, leaving her in the subtle glow of her room. She looked back out into the sprawling city of Coruscant and saw that the sun had retired, leaving nothing but stars and streetlights to illuminate the plethora of buildings that spanned the planet's surface.

Satine moved to her dressing room, gently removing her headpiece and the headband of fluted flowers she had woven into her hair. Her blonde hair fell freely, brushing against her shoulders. She ran her fingers through the locks. It was time for her to put duty to rest until the morning. Coruscant had gone to sleep. So would she.

* * *

 

_Fin_

 


End file.
